The Great Escape
by greenlight120
Summary: Kurt is fed up with trying to please everyone. Blaine's stress level has hit the max. What will happen when they meet up one faithful New York City night? How will they handle the repercussions? Based on the song "The Great Escape" by Boys Like Girls. AU Klaine, Marriage. I'm sorry I'm bad at summaries.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N So this is my first Fic. Thanks you guys for reading it. It's late, so I'll check for spelling/grammatical errors later tomorrow (And I promise there are some; WordPad doesn't have spellcheck).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of these wonderfully beautiful characters.**

Kurt finally got off the plane. After five hours sitting between a crying toddler and an old man with an apparent lung condition )the coughing was CONSTANT), he was finally in New York. New York: his future, where he was going to spend the rest of his life, his dream since the age of seven. He had to heavily restrain the squeals that were threatening to escape himself when he walked out of the airport and caught his first taxi. He was a pro. Despite his father's overprotective anxieties, he knew he's be fine in NYC; he was born for this.

His NYADA audition was in eight hours, just enough time to go sight seeing around Time Square. That's why he booked an early flight. His plan was to sleep on the ride there (1am-6am), check into a hotel, and walk around the city. He needed to get a feel for the City that Never Sleeps. He directed the cab driver to a Mariott on the east side of the city. A safe place to sleep was on the top of his dad's priority list- the only way he could afford to rent a night at the Mariott.

"So what brings you to NYC?" the cab driver asked. He was of Latino decent, and it finally hit Kurt how much magical diversity was in this city.

"I have a NYADA audition at two o'clock today," Kurt replied cheerfully.

"Yeah? Good luck, man. That place is brutal. My neice applied a couple of years ago. She has a beautiful voice, Santana. Very strong. Got a full ride to NYU and Berklee. But apparently she wasn't what NYADA was looking for that year," the driver replied. A mixture of bitterness and pity marked hs voice. Kurt didn't reply. He just stared out the window of the cab for the rest of the ride, his mind drifting to the anxieties he'd tried to put away the past few weeks.

What if the same fate happened to Kurt? What if Mr. Shue was wrong? NYADA may have an abundance of countertenors apply this year and Kurt be the runt of the litter? Everyone knew Rachel was good. No one questioned her acceptane to the school; she was **born** to be there. Kurt, however, never got any solos in Glee club. He couldn't even manage to score the lead in **West Side Story** this year. Maybe there was a reason for that. His voice was obviously too high. And maybe he didn't focus enough on intonation. Or maybe his dymanics weren't emphasized enough when he sang. He was definitely going to have to change his song choice for audition, then-

"Hey man, we're here. Meter's running," the driver said, interrupting his thoughts. How long had he been sitting here, looking like an idiot?

"Thank you," Kurt replied, handing the driver the exact change of his bill, "Have a wonderful day." He hopped out of the cab, grebbed his suitcase, and headed into the hotel. The day had been cloudy, and it started sprinkling the minute Kurt walked into the hotel. He paid for a room and headed up the elevator, his nerves still trying to get to him.

As the elevator reached the sixth floor (his floor), he wondered why he tasted iron. He touched his hand to his lips, and as he pulled back, blodd had covered his fingers. Great, he was biting his lip. Hard. That will not look credible to Mrs. Carmen Tibideaux. He then decided to cancel his plans for sight seeing that morning. If he was going to change his song choice completely, he should at least put in a few hours practice on it. He could not blow this audition.

As he entered the room, he threw his suitcase and bag on the bed. He found his laptop and started searching for new song choices. Should he go with some mainstream hit? No, that would seem too unprofessional, Another Broadway classic, perhaps? Maybe. Hmm... **Wicked**? No... too mainstream. She must hear that all the time. After thirty minutes of mindless Googling and worrying, Kurt caves and calls Rachel.

"Hello?" the brunette answered. Then Kurt admitted something that he never dreamed would escape his lips.

"I need you."

He has said it so fast it was hardly tangible. "Excuse me, what?" Rachel asked.

"I can't do **Phantom **for my audition. It's too basic, Rachel. And it doesn't express what I want it to. I want to stand out, and that song doesn't do it for me." Kurt sounded like he was pleading. And he was. Pleading to be as good and star-like as Rachel was.

"Well, you've definitely come to the right place..." Rachel sounded snarky. Yes, she was Kurt's friend, but she never missed a chance to passively gloat about how much better she was than him. She was the most self centered, conceited, attention whore that Kurt had ever met. And Kurt understood that. That was Rachel, who she was.

She spent what seemed like hours (but turned out to be only ten minutes) listing different songs from different musicals she thought would suffice, while Kurt simply turned them all down. None of them were perfect. Until she said the magic words.

"Well, we have 'Not the Boy Next Door' from **The Boy From Oz**. It'd be quite a kicker because it's a bit challenging. And nobody has done it well enough to live up to the performance by-"

"Rachel. What did you just say?" Kurt asked, full of thought.

"Kurt don't be offended. I'm not saying that you couldn't do it, just nobody has. And it doesn't really **fit** you, you kno-"

"It's **perfect**! Thank you, Rachel!" Kurt hung up the phone, immeiately turning it off to avoid any further distractions. He didn't have time to go to the music store to get the sheet music, so he decided just to YouTube it. He could do this.

After six hours of intense memorization, practice, and worshipping 'Not the Boy Next Door,' Kurt Hummel got out of the cab and walked through the doors to the Musical Theatre wing of NYADA. He was about fourty-five minutes early, so he took this time to mentally prepare himself. This would be fine. He **knew** this. This audition was his. He was Kurt Hummel, the countertenor who could outsing any damn person range wise who walked through that door; his dad and his coworkers had drilled that in his head for the past few weeks.

His dad. He realized that he hadn't called his dad since he'd gotten off the plane. He hoped he wouldn't be upset. His dad was a huge worrywart. Kurt understood where he was coming from, though. Up until Carole and Finn, Kurt was all he had. Kurt turned on his phone to give him a call.

"Why the hell haven't you called me in twelve hours?" Burt asked, sounding preciously annoyed.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Hello to you too, dad."

"Seriously, kid. I was worried sick. I've tried to call all afternoon." his dad softened.

"I'm sorry. I decided to change my audution piece at the last minute, so I was practicing that," Kurt explained. It sounded crazy as he said it back to himself, changing the song that would decide his future just hours before the biggest audition of his life. It was an impulse decision; he hadn't made many of those in his life, but the ones he had always turned out great.

"That's a big risk, bud. But hell, what do I know? You're the theatre one between the two of us, so I trust your judgement." Kurt could hear the smile in his dad's words. Burt had always believed in him when no one else did- when Kurt himself didn't.

"Yeah. Well, I just wanted to check up, dad. My audition is in about fifteen minutes," Kurt fumbled around with his sheet music, glancing at the clock.

"Alright. Me, Carole, and Finn love you. Be safe, and check up on me later tonight, okay?" Dad the worrywart again.

"Will do, Dad," Kurt chuckled, "Love you guys too."

"Oh, and Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"Good luck, kid. Break a leg." His dad's warm voice filled his heart. Any doubt Kurt had left dimished with his father's kind words. Burt believed in him. Carole and Finn and Mercedes and Rachel and Mr. Shue believed in him. He'll be fine.

"Kurt Hummel?" Kurt heard his name. A short, thin woman in a red blazer and black pencil skirt called his name. She had brown hair and a very high pitched voice. She smiled at him as he stood up. "You have an audution today, correct?" He nodded at her. At any other time, he would have made a sarcastic remark in the context of 'Why else would I be here?' but he not today; he was too nervous. Great, his nerves had come back. "You're auditioning with Mrs. Tibideaux this afternoon. Follow me; it's this way." Kurt followed her down the hall where his future awaited him.

"Thank you."

That's all she said. After hours of preparation, weeks of vocal restoration (Kurt had a major case of strep a few weeks prior to his audition), and years of **dreaming** of this day, all Carmen Tibideaux had to say was 'thank you.' He **naled** that audition. The energy he felt on that stage was irrefutable. If he didn't make it into that school, then the driver was right: they **were** ridiculous. Screw them. He was perfect. But then again, why didn't she show any acclaimation towards him? They just **might** have an abundance of countertenors auditioning this year. **Jusy shut up, emotions. Please** Kurt pleaded with himself.

He was walking down the sidewalk when he turned his phone on again. Messages from Chandler flooded his notifications. Honestly? Kurt had forgotten Chandler existed the whole day. Kurt knew that made him a bad boyfriend, but what could he do? Things with Chandler just hadn't been the same for a couple of months. Kurt thought it was just all the stress he'd been going through with his NYADA audition. But now that it was over, he could become a good boyfriend again. Kurt dialed Chandler's number as he caught a cab to take him back to his hotel.

It went to voicemail after five rings. He must be busy or away from his phone. Kurt shot him a quick text.

**Sorry. My phone has been off. I miss you. -K**

Kurt knew that was a lie, but he was trying. Trying to be the guy Chandler fell for. Because he knew he hasn't been that lately. He had been ignoring Chandler and just being uninterested. Kurt had tried to convince himself that the spark was still there, just hidden. And they would find it again. Kurt wanted Chandler to be happy.

Kurt had gotten back to the hotel without another reply from Chandler. That was odd; Chandler always replied within less than a minute of Kurt's texts. He was so hyperactive, bless his went up to the room, slid off his shoes, loosened his shirt, and lay on the bed, dialing Chandler's number again. It then rang twice and went straight to voicemail, which meant Chandler was avoiding him. Time to activate bitch mode. Nobody ignored Kurt Hummel, especially if he'd just sang his heart out at the biggest audition of his life. Chandler should be all excited, asking Kurt for all the details, being supportive. Instead, he was being a dick.

**What the hell? You are NOT ignoring me. -K**

**Thats wat u hav done 2 me all day. -C**

That was one thing Kurt hated about Chandler's texts; they were all so damn grammaticaly incorrect. Learn to fucking type.

**Chandler, I had an audition. The biggest one in my career, I might add. -K**

**I was worried abt u. -C**

**Ugh. -K**

Kurt dialed his number again. Chandler certainly wasn't ignoring him now, so he had no excuse not to answer.

"Kurt, I just missed you. So much. And you just fucking ignored me all day. Just like you're gong to do when you go to New York for good." Chandler whined.

"Chandler, you just wanted my attention. That's all you ever want." Kurt hakfway yelled. He knew it was low. Good. Maybe Chandler needed to hear it.

"Excuse me? I'm your **boyfriend**, Kurt. You've been avoiding me, and you have the **balls** to say I'm clingy?" Chandler shot back.

"Chandler, why can't you just be happy for me? Be supportive for **once**. I just did really great on my audition, and you haven't even asked me about it yet." Kurt fully yelled now. Chandler had never been supportive of Kurt's musical dreams. Fashion, yes. They shared that in common. But although Chandler was in glee club with Kurt, he never thought Kurt's ambitions were 'practical;' he was thoroughly convinced nobody ever made it to the music business. Or he thought Kurt just couldn't make it.

"Maybe because I haven't had a chance to **talk** to you." Chandler was so clingy, it wasn't even real. Kurt spent most of their relationship trying to make Chandler happy. **He** was the one who paid for the dinners and the movies, **he** was the one who serenaded Chandler during glee club meetings, and **he** was the one who always **gave** the blow jobs but never recieved them. Kurt knew it was silly to think about stuff like that, but he just wanted to be held, not the one who was doing the holding.

"Chandler, why can't you understand that it's **not always about you?!**" Kurt was full out screaming at this point. He couldn't deal with it. Not when he was in New York of all places. The greatesr place on Earth (next to Disney World, of course). When Chandler didn't reply right away, Kurt took the time and hung up on him, turning his phone off in conclusion. He didn't want this right now. All he wanted to do, he decided, was go sight seeing. Have a fun, eventful night because he was in New York City for goodness sake.

He went to the bathroom and perfectly coifed his hair and brushed his teeth. He headed to his suitcase and found a pair of tight, grey jeans and a yellow button up shirt. He put on the outfit and finished it off with his black bigh top Converse. He figured he'd just go simple today. With a quick glance in the mirror (he looked pretty sexy, he thought) he walked out the door to his hotel room, going where New York City took him.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I know this chapter is short. Sorry guys! We've had tornadoes all day (keep the victims who got hit hard in your thoughts and prayers).**

**Again, sorry for the spelling errors. Bare (bear?) with m, here. :)**

**And for those wondering, Kurt and Blaine will PROBABLY meet in the next chapter. I'm honestly not sure where this story is headed yet. I know what I want to do with it, but the details basically write themselves sometimes. Thanks for the feedback, guys!**

Friday. It was Friday. After today, there would be no more classes until Monday. NYU was getting to be a bit difficult. The semester would end in five weeks (because it was now the beginning of April), and man was Blaine glad. He had made the mistake of taking seventeen hours of honors classes this semester. Despite what his parents urged him to do, he'll never do this again.

He was stuck in his three o'clock calculus class listening to Dr. Bennet droning on and on about the first fundemental theorem. Damn, this was getting old. He was majoring in English. He was going to be a lawyer- or that's what was expected of him. But why the hell did he need to know calculus for that? He stared at the clock, silently pleading it to hit four o'clock already. He was planning on going out this weekend. Anywhere, really. Sebastian was meeting him at hs dorm a little after class so he could shower and get ready. Blaine wasn't sure if this was a date or not, but one thing he was sure of was Sebastian wanted to get in his pants. He'd made that clear from the first time they'd met each other six months ago, Blaine coming home from the library and Sebastian coming home from a frat party. Sebastian was drunk, so Blaine let him sleep in his bed. He was cute; what harm could it do? Since that night they had been dancing around each other constantly. Flirty texts were exchanged, a few kisses were stolen, and a few feels were copped. However, Blaine didn't want to go all the way with someone until he was in a committed relationship he knew would last. Blaine thought it was noble; Sebastian found it irritating.

"Your homework is on the website. You're free to go," Dr. Bennet announced. Blaine snatched up his bag and hauled ass out of the lecture room. He was free. At least for two days.

As he strided down the sidewalk, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He looked at the screen; ugh, it was his parents.

"Hi sweetie! How are you? How is school?" his mom bellowed before he even got a chance to say hello. Her cheery, high pitched voice made his ears ring.

"Fine. I just got out of calculus." he murmured.

"Oh, we know that honey. That's why I called. We went online and saw your grade in that class. We're a bit concerned." Lisa Anderson still sounded just as cheery as every. Yep, that was his mom. The most passive aggressive witch he's ever met. And no, he was not going to call her a bitch. He wanted to, though. **So bad**. He always had, but he still clung to the memories of her when he was little- the mother who loved him, no matter his sexuality- and couldn't disrespect her. It was a lame excuse, he knew it, but that's what kept the tears at bay. It he broke now, he'd be broken forever.

But back to the problem at bay. "Of course you looked up my grades, Mom. How have I disappointed you this time?" Blaine deadpanned.

"You have an 84 in calculus, Blaine," This time it was his father on the phone. "I'm concerned. You've never gotten this low a grade." The difference between his mother and his father was while his mother was extremely passive agressive, his father was just aggressive. Alan Anderson sure did know how to push Blaine's buttons, as well as his wife's.

"Dad, an 84 isn't bad. I don't know where you got that far-fetched concept." Blaine replied exhaustedly. His parents held him up to such a high standard.

"Don't talk to me like that. I'm your father; I better be shown some respect," Alan growled. But as fast as he'd gotten angry, his mood had returned to normal. "Now, tonight your mother and I will have a Skype study session with you. I remeber calculus like it's my second language."

"No, I-"

"It's completely necessary, Blaine.

"Dad, I-"

"And don't think we'll do this every time, young man. You have to start taking initiative with your studies. If you're going to be a lawyer, you can't be slacking like it seems you're doing now. We had a close call with your chemistry class last semester-"

"**Actually, Dad,** I'm going out for the night." Blaine practically yelled. He had to yell; it was the only way his dad would shut up and actually hear him.

Now both of his parents were talking at the same time. His mom was saying, "Oh honey, you need to stay and work. We can't have you failing," while his dad yelled "The hell you are." Blaine was growing tired of this. **Why** couldn't he save someone supportive? He was eighteen, for crying out loud. He was unhappy. He didn't **want** any of this. He was being forced into a future he wasn't comfortable with.

"First of all, _Mom_, an 84 isn't failing. Actually, it's pretty far above passing. And Dad, I'm an adult. I make my own decisions, and I'm going out tonight." Blaine couldn't come out with all he was feeling, but that was a start.

"With one of your faggot friends, I presume?" his mom asked, voice still annoyingly leveled and high pitched.

"You know good and well, Lisa, it's with one of his flaming buddies. He's in college now. They're **everywhere**, and now our son can't help himself. He's probably fucking everything with a-"

"I'm done here." Blaine interrupted his father's yelling fit and hung up the phone, shoving it into his back pocket. No, he was eighteen, three-hundred miles away in New York; he didn't have to deal with this. That's one of the reasons he chose to move so far away. He had dealt with his father's abuse since he was fourteen and came out. Alan had alienated him for a year, penting up his rage until he finally let it all out on Blaine's mother. Lisa has been getting verbally abused every day since Blaine had come out. Alan had blamed her for his son's sexuality. And Blaine blamed himself for making his mother suffer. That was the reason his mother was so passive toards him; she hated him for what he'd done. What he'd made her husband become.

Blaine arrived at his dorm room about five minutes later, not in the slightest cooled down from his conversation with his parents prior. He stepped through the door and slipped his shirt off, getting ready for a shower before his night tonight. Was it a date? He wasn't sure. He sure hoped it was. Blaine wasn't sure how he felt about Sebastian. Sure, he was sexy as hell and his voice could melt butter, but he wasn't smart, and **god** was he a horndog. Always horny.

"Ooh, do I get an early show, sexy?" Speak of the devil. There Sebastian was lying on Blaine's bed, his pillow settled between the boys legs. Sebastian winked at him, and before he knew it, Blaine was striding towards his bed. Their lips smashed together forcefully, teeth clinking together and tongues fighting for dominance. Blaine's hands wandered all over Sebastain's chest while Sebastian's hands settled on Blaine's ass. A few moans escaped Blaine's lips as Sebastian massaged him through his pants. He needed this. He needed to be in the arms of someone who who cared for him. Or at least Blaine could pretend that Sebastian cared.

"What brought this on? I mean, not that I'm **complaining**..." Sebastian pulled away and asked. Blaine was annoyed. Why would Sebastian pick tonight of all nights to be morally virtuous and not super seductive? Blaine needed seductive. He needed to be used. But now the moment was gone, and so was Blaine's self-pity.

"Just had a bad day. Let's get going?" Blaine just wanted to leave. Sebastian didn't question it. He just walked towards the door as Blaine picked up out a shirt. They left campus without a word. Sebastian was driving. Honestly? Blaine didn't care where they went. As long as he found adventure. And with Sebastian, that wasn't hard to encounter.


End file.
